


He isn't yours

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Don't talk to me about my tags, Kissing Prompt, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 15:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: You weren’t expecting this, there was so much you didn’t expect, butthisis at the top of the list. That you shouldwanthim.





	He isn't yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellel/gifts).



> Filling Elle's prompt of: staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in for SilverHam XD

He isn’t yours. That much is obvious, in the way his body opens up towards James’ like a flower to sunshine, in the way his eyelids droop like petals when James puts his hand on the back of his neck and squeezes gently. He isn’t _yours_. That smile is not meant for you. Those teasing looks and cajoling words that feel so much like a flirtation that it makes your heart race like a runaway horse. You weren’t expecting this, there was so much you didn’t expect, but _this_ is at the top of the list. That you should _want_ him.

He isn’t yours, but yet he sits too close, he stares too long into your eyes and at your lips and you stare back. Every look, every word is a challenge, a dare. You watch James kiss him and you see the way his throat moves as he leans into his caress. And then he looks at you and licks his lips and you turn away, pretending to be unaffected.

He isn’t yours, then why is he in your room? His hands are like the wings of a dove, white and fleeting. There is a streak in his hair that is darker than the rest, which is an irony because you know the reason for it is that his hair has begun to gray there. There are creases in the corners of his eyes when he smiles at you, that you know match your own almost exactly. It’s how you both smile at James.

“I finished the book,” he says as he sits next to you on the bed and reaches the tome out towards you. It rests on your lap, where you hope it will obscure the telltale signs of your confusion. “I thought you might want to read it next.”

His lips are pale now where at times you have seen them flushed, when they were kissed. You wonder if they would pinken for you, beneath your tongue and teeth.

He isn’t _yours_. Yet you cannot help but reach across the bed and take his hand. The wing of a white dove, a symbol of peace. He is much taller than you, yet your hands are about the same, and you’re shocked by it long enough to be distracted from that fact that he’s still letting you hold his hand. And then you lean in.

He kisses you back like a flash of lightning, bright and unexpected and dazzling. Perhaps you’d been wrong all along. Perhaps he is yours, too.


End file.
